


One Floor Up

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: "went into the wrong apartment" au, "whoops this isn't my friend's apartment" au, "whoops you're cute" au, ACAI REFRESHER, Anxiety, Awkwardness, But very slight - Freeform, Developing Friendships, Eggs, F/M, How Do I Tag, Ice Cream, Jewish Character, Male Friendship, Meet-Cute, Mother's Day, Oops, Oreos, apartments au??? does that exist???, brief texting, but we like him, courtesy of jared, how tf does one do Tagging, i think i've accidentally developed a food chapter thematic, in which Evan Hansen is Harry Potter, increasingly awful nicknames, it does now, jared being a little bitch, more like "meet-how the fuck did you get in", or technically four if you count the moms!, totally oblivious, two of them actually!!, two tags that are necessary for all fics with evan hansen, who the fuck is eggsy and why did they come up a million times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: The girl is in a t-shirt that falls to her thighs and gray sweatpants that pool at her feet. She's squinting through a beautiful mess of mussed-up light brown hair. She also looks kind of nervous, but Evan can't exactly blame her for that."Whoareyou?" she whispers angrily. "Are you robbing us?"Us?"What? No, no, I was just – see this is my friend Jared's apartment, you must have, well, actually, I don't know why you're here, he's gay, but I just needed to borrow some eggs for –""Who the fuck is Jared?" the girl hisses. "This ismyapartment. Who the hell are you?"





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> “I’m baking and I need some eggs so I thought I’d get them from my friend’s apartment but they’re not in and, uh, hey this isn’t your apartment at all and I’m so sorry I’m stealing your eggs” au  
> idk they live in apartments???? dont ask  
> prompt fics are for people who have no inspiration aka myself constantly so here HAVE ANOTHER ONE  
> this was fun to write. set in the universe "raviv's time bubbles" in which there is no distinct setting bc im lame and suck lmao okay that's all  
> also an au where evan and zoe dont know each other yet

 Breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day is the perfect idea. _Really_. It’s Evan’s chance to prove he cares about his mom and appreciates everything she does for him, which is pretty much everything.

At seven in the morning, Evan opens the fridge door, and almost has a heart attack. There are no eggs.

No big deal. It’s fine. He can just — he can just borrow some from Jared, that’s fine. Jared won’t mind. Maybe he should call ahead.

Evan and his mom live in 404, and Jared lives in 504, exactly one floor above them. As Evan slips out of their apartment door in his beat-up sneakers, he dials Jared.

The phone rings eight times before going to voicemail. _If you actually intended on leaving a message — wow, you’re a nerd. Grow up. This is 2016, no one checks their voicemail anymore. Evan, seriously._

There’s a beep, and then Evan sighs and hangs up. He never leaves Jared messages because he knows he’ll get teased harshly about it later, and it’s honestly not worth it. Jared must still be asleep, anyway.

He has a key to Jared’s apartment, but he doesn’t end up needing it, because as the elevator pulls to a stop at the fifth floor and Evan tries the doorknob, it twists open.

Strange — Jared is usually paranoid about ninjas and creepers sneaking into his apartment and watching him as he sleeps (his words, not Evan's). Whatever.

The apartment looks — different from how Evan remembers it. There was never a mirror on the front wall there, as far as he remembers, and also wasn’t Jared’s couch black? And is that someone’s laptop, just sitting there for anyone to open? Evan can’t remember the last time he saw Jared so laissez-faire about his laptop.

He shakes off the unsettling feeling that he’s in the wrong place. This is Jared’s apartment — 504. Maybe he redecorated. It’s been a week since Evan’s actually been here. That’s plenty of time to buy entirely new furniture, and...

He shuffles his way into the kitchen. The lights in the apartment are still off, and Evan feels mildly bad for breaking in, but he remembers his mom, and thinks of how crucial it is that he make her this breakfast, to show how much he loves and appreciates her, and he powers through. Jared will get over it. He'll never even know Evan was here.

The fridge is full of salads and weird pastes. Evan is startled to say the least: he's pretty sure most of Jared's fridge used to be filled to the brim with old pizza and half-finished ramen, plus, like, twelve different kinds of cheese.

But there – yes! – are two dozen eggs, stacked one on top of the other, pushed up against the side of the shelf. Evan exhales with relief and moves to take them out when the light flicks on in the kitchen.

He whirls around. "Jared, it's just m –"

Oh, well, that's _distinctly_ not-Jared.

The girl is in a t-shirt that falls to her thighs and gray sweatpants that pool at her feet. She's squinting through a beautiful mess of mussed-up light brown hair. She also looks kind of nervous, but Evan can't exactly blame her for that.

"Who _are_ you?" she whispers angrily. "Are you robbing us?"

 _Us_? "What? No, no, I was just – see this is my friend Jared's apartment, you must have, well, actually, I don't know why you're here, he's gay, but I just needed to borrow some eggs for –"

"Who the fuck is Jared?" the girl hisses. "This is _my_ apartment. Who the hell are you?"

Evan gulps. "W-what? No, no no no, this is Jared's apartment – 504, that's Jared, see, I live in 404, and –"

"This is 604, genius," the girl says in her whisper-hiss.

Evan does a double-take. "Um – what?"

"6-0-4," she repeats sharply. "How the hell did you get in?"

"Oh well your door was just unlocked so that's why I thought – you know this really doesn't – I should go," Evan says desperately.

"It was unlocked?" the girl echoes, uncertainty etched into her face. "You didn't break in?"

Evan shakes his head so vigorously he can feel his brain rattling around in there. "I'm not robbing you, seriously, I'm not. Look, um – what's your name?"

"Zoe," the girl mutters.

"Zoe, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to disturb you or wake you, I was just trying to borrow some eggs from Jared, and I got the wrong floor, that's all. I'm really sorry, so sorry, I'm just – okay, I'm going to leave now."

Evan closes the fridge and hurries past Zoe, his face in flames of embarrassment. Of _course_ , only Evan could walk into the _wrong apartment_ in search of his friend. God, what kind of a loser is he? How pathetic is that? If he'd just _checked_ –

"Wait, um, what's your name?" Zoe says to Evan's quickly retreating back. He halts, and then slowly turns around. Zoe's followed him out into the front hall, her sweats dragging along the spotless hardwood floor.

Evan is having a bit of trouble breathing, to be honest. He inhales through his nose and then out through his mouth once, as discreetly as he can so she doesn't notice and think he's a freak, and then says quietly, "Evan."

Zoe chews on her lip. "Um, well... you know, as long as you're here, you might as well just borrow eggs from us."

Evan swallows what feels like fifty rocks. "Uh – well – no, you don't have to do that," he starts.

Zoe almost smiles. "Come on, it's not a big deal. My parents won't care. And my brother doesn't eat healthy stuff anyway."

"Well –" He's prepared to argue, but Zoe has already turned around and returned to the kitchen, and Evan feels obliged to follow.

She pulls out a dozen eggs from the fridge and hands them to him. "Is that enough?"

Evan forces a chuckle. "Yeah, no, this is plenty. It's just me and my mom, really. I thought I'd do something for Mother's Day. I guess – well – thank you," he finally tells her, and tries to stop being so freaking _nervous_ for like _one second_ so he can smile at her.

She nods, and he can almost see the faintest trace of a blush on her cheeks. There's also a frown, though, which kind of cancels it out. "It's Mother's Day?"

Evan furrows his eyebrows. "Today it is, yeah."

Zoe's quiet for a minute. "Oh. I – I didn't know that. I don't really keep track."

"Do you have a mom?" Immediately, he wants to facepalm. _Good one, Evan, what if she doesn't have a mom? What if her mom left just like your dad? How would you feel? Oh, god, what if she starts crying? What if she yells at me?_

She doesn't. Instead she pulls a strained half-smile and says, "Ha. Sometimes I'm not sure." And then, "I mean, yeah, I do. She's just a little – difficult. Anyway. Happy Mother's Day to your mom, I guess."

Evan isn't really sure how to respond to that. "Thanks?" he tries. "Um, you too. I mean, your mom. Not you, I doubt you're a mom. Not that – you know what, never mind. Thank you for the eggs and – and for not calling the police on me." He flushes.

Zoe chuckles. "No problem. Nice to meet you, Evan."

"Nice – really nice to meet you too, Zoe," Evan says as he follows her to their front door. Their voices have been hushed the whole time for fear of waking anyone else in the apartment – parents and brother, apparently – but as Evan slips into the hall outside the apartment door, he reverts to his normal voice. "Um, and, well, you're welcome to stop by today. Or ever. No pressure. I'm in 404 – I think I already told you that, um, but anyway, you can come by whenever, if you feel like it. Only if you want. Thanks."

He lifts a hand in salutation, and she smiles. "Maybe. You – uh, you can stop by too. If you want. Although if my brother answers the door, good luck." She half-laughs, so Evan half-laughs as well.

"Cool," he says. "Well, sorry for breaking into your apartment."

"Don't worry about it," Zoe says. "I guess it's kind of our fault for not locking the door. Although..." She tilts her head as she looks at him. "It could've been worse."

And with that, she closes her apartment door. Evan hears the lock click.

He stares at the closed door for a full minute before pressing the elevator button. His phone buzzes with a text from Jared.

 **jared:** why the fucking jesus fuc k did you call me at 7am

 **jared:** unless youre dying im about to be seriously pissed

 **evan:** it was nothing, never mind

 

 _Except_ , he thinks as he scrambles the Zoe-eggs in a frying pan and puts two slices of white bread in the toaster oven, _she was actually really something._

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan tries to pay Zoe back in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's been forever since i've even glanced at THIS fic but i was looking thru my WIPs yesterday and realized...this isn't one of them. part 2 has been finished for awhile i'm just a dumbass, and hopefully posting part 2 will inspire me to finish part 3 and subsequent parts, but we'll see. anyway, without further ado: oreos!

**jared:** Y O U D I D W H  A T

**jared:** EVAN HANS EN U  YOU FIFUCKING DID WH AT 

**jared:** EVANNA HANSEN

**jared:** BITCH U8 FUCKIN WHAT

 

Evan sighs and elects to call Jared.

“You did  _ what?! _ ” Jared shouts through the phone as soon as he answers. Evan flinches.

“It was an  _ accident.  _ I didn’t  _ mean _ to go into her apartment, I thought it was yours, okay?”

“You thought — you —  _ what?!” _ It sounds like Jared is on the verge of dissolving into derisive laughter. “I’m seriously — what? You didn’t realize that the apartment looked  _ nothing _ like mine? You didn’t think ‘hey, something’s wrong’ at the first sign of change? That doesn’t even sound like you, Evan.”

“Well I just, I really wanted to get some eggs, okay?” Evan mutters, his cheeks burning, grateful that Jared is still too lazy to get out of bed even though it’s noon now. Otherwise he knows he’d be getting an earful in 4-D, and that’s really not something he wants.

Jared snorts with laughter. “This whole situation is fucking hilarious to me, sorry not sorry, Ev.”

_ Ev?  _ “Shut up.” Evan picks up the fidget cube that his mom had bought for him, as both a gift and a compromise so he’d stop picking at the seams of his shirts and tearing them, and starts rolling the small metal ball as fast as he can get it. The fidget cube gets its most intense workout when Evan’s on the phone with Jared.

Jared exhales as he gets a grip on his (probably falsified and exaggerated) laughter. “Oh Evan, you absolute dumbass. So, what, you now have a brand-new egg girlfriend?”

The fidget cube slips out of Evan’s hand as he jerks his head up. “What?  _ Girlfriend _ ? No, no, that’s — Jared!  _ No _ . I don’t even —  _ know _ her.”

Jared’s laughing again. Evan grits his teeth. “She just lent me her eggs. I have to bring back the ones I didn’t use.”

“Oh, she  _ lent  _ you her _ eggs _ ,” Jared repeats knowingly, and Evan can  _ feel _ him drawing quote marks around the words. “You know, Evan, the word eggs can be used for a lot of —”

“Okay I’m hanging up now Jared goodbye!” Evan says loudly into the receiver, and then he presses  _ end call _ with so much force that rainbow colors flash out for a split second around his thumb on the screen.

Evan doesn’t see why Jared thinks it’s so funny to tease him endlessly, but anyway, the conversation has reminded him that he does need to bring back Zoe’s eggs. Maybe he should bring something else, too. As a thank-you. Like cookies or something.

Passover just ended, and Evan’s mom always forgets to buy snacks with  _ chametz _ until at least two months after the holiday, so they don’t have any cookies in the house, which means he’ll have to go out and buy them, which is almost more trouble than it’s worth, especially because that means Evan would need to drive, and Evan hates driving, but he  _ owes _ it to Zoe to bring her cookies, plus maybe then she’ll talk to him a little bit more instead of just taking the eggs and closing the front door in his face, so — 

Okay, he has to buy cookies. Awesome.

* * *

 

 

The CVS has, like, fifty million kinds of cookies, which is way too many, and there’s another person standing there looking at cookies too, and Evan’s been standing way too long puzzling over whether he should get sugar cookies or chocolate chip cookies or Oreos or  _ what _ . The other person — a woman, maybe in her thirties? — glances subtly at him, but he sees it, his heart pounds, and he grabs a pack of Oreos and walks as casually as he can towards the checkout.

Evan hates the checkout more than he hates driving. What is he supposed to do? Just stand there while the person rings him up, with lifeless eyes, probably hoping to snag some conversation, and then judging Evan when he doesn’t provide said conversation? It’s hard. Checkout people are hard.

_ For Zoe _ , Evan reminds himself, taking a deep breath as he stands in line. He repeats it like a mantra.  _ For Zoe, for Zoe, for Zoe, for Zoe. _ He repeats in his head until it starts to blur the rest of the world, and then suddenly he’s at the front of the line, and the checkout guy is sitting there, looking bored as anyone ever has.

Evan puts the Oreos on the conveyor belt and pulls out his phone. It’s a trick he’d learned from Jared, because having an asshole as a best friend has its benefits. “When you don’t feel like talking, just pretend you’re texting,” he’d said once. “Or on a phone call, but I know you’d fuck that up if you tried, so stick with things that don’t require use of words.”

Jared’s such an asshole.

He’s right, though. Evan did try, once, to pretend he was on the phone, but he ended up stuttering, saying things that didn’t make sense, and finally hanging up with a “gotta go bye” that still haunts him to this day.

Instead of pretending, he actually texts his mom.

**Evan:** i’ll be home in about ten minutes

His mom replies only a second later. If nothing else, she’s very prompt.

**Mom:** Okay!

**Evan:** is it okay if i go out again?

**Mom:** Of course, honey. Where to? Jared’s?

Evan debates this as the checkout guy tells him his price. He pulls out a five dollar bill and tells the dude to keep the change even though the change is like two dollars, because it’s the  _ worst _ when he’s just standing there awkwardly as they count out the change, excruciatingly slowly. He takes the Oreos and walks back to the car.

It’s a rare day of warmth, where the sun has decided that winter is finally over and is hesitantly peeking out from behind nimbus clouds. It probably won’t last. Normally, Evan likes nice days, but the CVS doesn’t have their A/C on, so it’s just a lot of heat, and Evan’s palms are feeling sweaty, which is just  _ so annoying _ because he’s not even  _ talking _ to anyone. He gets in the car, puts the Oreos on the passenger seat, wonders if they’re heavy enough to make the car think there’s a person there, and then buckles the passenger seatbelt anyway, just in case.

**Evan:** yeah, jared’s

At least she won’t worry, in any case. Heidi Hansen is a great worrier, and sometimes for no reason at all. Maybe it’s genetic. No wonder Evan hates the checkout.

_ That’s stupid, _ Evan reminds himself,  _ anxiety isn’t genetic, shut up. _

He drives home, focused very intently on staying in the right lane and using his turn signal correctly.

* * *

 

Somehow, knocking on the door that isn’t Jared’s on  _ purpose _ feels more like walking to his impending doom. The first time he’d come in here, by mistake, he’d been so startled he hadn’t had time to be anxious, but now, waiting for someone to open the door, he can think of at least twelve things that could go wrong.

Just as he’s about to turn around and go back downstairs, Oreos still clamped in his right hand and eggs in his left, the door creaks and opens wide. Someone is standing there, and it’s definitely not Zoe.

Briefly Evan wonders if this time he actually  _ did _ end up at Jared’s apartment, and this is another one of his hookups, but he glances at the address and yes, this is 604, so who’s this guy?

Just as he speaks, Evan remembers something Zoe had said that morning, a warning of sorts.  _ Although if my brother answers the door, good luck. _

“Who are you?”

Evan wants to turn and run away. This is worse than the checkout guy.

“I’m — um, I’m, my name is Evan, and I — what’s — is Zoe here?”

At least it has the  _ shape _ of a normal sentence, stammering excluded. Evan wants to crumple in front of the guy’s sharp stare.

“Yeah,” he says tightly. Evan doesn’t know why he sounds so miserable, but it’s terrifying. The guy — he has long hair, probably to his shoulders, and it looks like it hasn't been washed in days, and he's dressed in all black, who is he, the grim reaper? — turns over his shoulder and shouts, “ZOE! Your weekly boyfriend is here!”

Evan blushes deeply. “That's not —I'm not actually, I'm not her boyfriend, just—”

“Go fuck yourself, Connor!” someone shouts back, and the voice sounds like Zoe. Evan’s desire to run away lessens a bit.

Connor fumes as a motherly voice says desperately from somewhere invisible to Evan, “Connor, be respectful.” Connor scoffs. “And Zoe,  _ please  _ watch your language!”

“Oh, so you're not gonna tell _ her _ to be respectful?” Connor snarls, and suddenly Evan feels like he should leave and act as though he was never here.

Then Zoe appears, just as the motherly voice is attempting to explain, “Of course she needs to be respectful, dear, but I think you could both stand to learn a lesson from that!”

There's a moment where Evan and Zoe stare at each other, and Evan fidgets. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Zoe says, looking a bit dumbfounded. “You’re here.”

“Well I just, I needed to return your eggs,” Evan says quickly, feeling dumb and bright red. “And I —” There's a shouting match going on inside now, Connor versus motherly voice of reason, and Evan retries. “Um, I thought I would bring you cookies, as a thank-you, because that's what you do when you borrow things from people, like an interest rate kind of, so anyway — here.” He holds out the carton of eggs and the pack of Oreos for Zoe to take, and she eyes them and then him, and then steps out of the apartment, closing the door.

The hall feels suddenly quieter and Evan’s a bit uneasy. “Thanks,” she tells him, and even though that word usually sounds like a formality for people, Zoe makes it sound sincere. Her eyes are brighter in the daytime. More sparkling.

She takes the cookies and the eggs from him after standing for just a moment too long to be comfortable, and Evan starts feeling compelled to babble to fill the space. He represses the urge.

“That's...that's all,” Evan says, shrugging. And then, like some kind of _ idiot _ , “Unless you — want to hang out or something?”

_ Hang out? _ What is this, middle school? Get it together, Evan. This girl is way cooler than you're ever going to be and —

“I would love that,” Zoe says emphatically. She smiles. “When everyone starts arguing, it’s time for me to get out.”

“Yeah,” Evan says, even though he doesn't get it because he doesn't really argue with his mom and Jared’s parents are rarely around to argue with anyway.

There's still faint yelling audible from the hall: Connor swearing a lot, the sound of something breaking, another deep shout, this time not Connor or the motherly voice but someone else. Evan’s money is on the dad.

Zoe must notice him listening without meaning to, and she frowns. “Don't worry,” she tells him. “It's usually something like this.”

“You — fight with your parents a lot?” Evan asks uncertainly.

Zoe laughs. “Come on, let's sit. We can tackle these cookies you so kindly purchased for me.”

She sits on the floor in the hallway outside of her apartment.

“Okay,” Evan says, but he doesn’t sit. “Just, um, don’t you think the floor is kind of dirty? Like you don’t know who was walking here or — um — not that I care, you know, I sit on the floor all the time,”  _ shut up, Evan. _

Zoe grabs his wrist and yanks him down, forcing him to the floor. “Sit, dude,” she says calmly. “Take a breather.”

Evan takes a sufficient “breather” by taking exactly one breath. “Okay,” he says unnecessarily. Zoe grins at him before tearing at the package of cookies the way a tiger would at a dead deer — which isn’t the most pleasant mental image, so Evan tries to banish it.

“So Evan,” she says as she takes a cookie and pops it in her mouth whole, muffling the rest of her sentence, “tell me about yourself.”

Evan swallows and takes a cookie for something to do with his hands. He doesn’t really want one, but if he takes small bites then he might be able to make it  _ seem _ like he’s eating a lot of cookies. “Uh, I live two floors underneath you,” he says. Zoe rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, I know  _ that, _ smart guy,” she says, playfully smacking his arm. It doesn’t hurt, which is a relief. Zoe definitely seems like the kind of girl who could break his arm if she wanted to. His other arm. Or his newly-healed arm, which would just be cruel. “Something I didn’t know. This is how you make friends. Here, I’ll go first.” Evan’s stuck on the word  _ friends, _ and he shakes it off. “My name is Zoe, and I play guitar in jazz band at my school.”

“That — that’s really cool,” Evan says, smiling so it doesn’t sound sarcastic. “I, um, okay. My name is Evan and I broke my arm last summer.”

“Ooh, intriguing,” Zoe says. “What happened?”

Evan swallows again and takes a bite out of his cookie, bigger than he means to. “Um, well, I was climbing a tree, and — and I fell.”

Zoe scrunches her nose up sympathetically. It’s adorable. “Man, that sucks. I broke my arm once, when I was learning to ride a bike. It shits. Are you better now? Which arm was it?”

“My left,” Evan says, lifting up his arm to show her where it scarred. “And I’m okay now. It, um, I’m sorry you broke your arm.”

Zoe waves him away. “Happened when I was nine. That was, like, eight years ago.”

“How old are you?” Evan asks, before he can convince himself that it’s a creepy question.

“Seventeen,” she answers. “Eighteen in July. You?”

“My birthday’s in July too,” Evan says, only slightly too enthusiastic. He clears his throat. “Uh, I’m eighteen. You’re a junior?”

Talking to Zoe is so much easier than...than anything, really. She keeps the conversation alive, teases him in a friendly way and never makes him feel stupid, not even once. It’s like talking to an angel. An angel who happens to swear like a sailor and has a penchant for trashing her family. He ends up eating five cookies without realizing.

An hour passes and Evan’s butt is starting to feel sore from the tiled flooring of the hallway. He checks his phone.

**jared:** yo are you busy today

**jared:** oh fufck it’s  mothers day

**jared:** my mom is on a vacation

**jared:** are you getting mani pedis with heidi or can you hang out

**jared:** bro. dude. evan. my dude. my guy. my man. bro. dont leave me hanging

And, five minutes ago:

**jared:** you better have a really good reason for not answering me and the only acceptable reason is that you’re getting laid or being murdered

**jared:** or both at the same time, thats ok too

Evan’s eyes widen and he stifles a laugh that doesn’t go unnoticed. Zoe glances over. 

“What’s so funny?”

Evan shakes his head. “Nothing, just...my friend. He — the one I thought lived in your apartment, actually.”

“The gay one,” Zoe recalls. Evan laughs. 

“Jared, yeah.” He hands his phone to Zoe so she can read the displayed messages, and a moment later she laughs too, which is a musical sound. If her laugh is anything to go by, Zoe deserves to be lead singer in jazz band, too. Not that you can judge a person’s singing voice by their laugh, but Zoe’s is…

She returns his phone to him and Evan pockets it. “Well, look, I don’t want to hold you up,” she tells him. “You should probably go hang out with Jared. And,” she sighs in resignation, “I should go back inside. But this was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

Evan blinks. “Uh, I mean —  yeah, it was fun. Thanks. And, um, thanks for the eggs.”

“Thanks for the cookies,” Zoe returns, standing quickly and brushing her legs off before holding out a hand to Evan. “Come on, up.”

Evan reluctantly takes her hand, and it’s very warm and small and soft — until she  _ yanks _ him to his feet and he’s almost  _ certain _ she’s broken his other arm. He manages to keep his wince to a minimum, but she still squints worriedly.

“Too hard? Sorry. I’m working on it. Anyway, nice to properly meet you, Evan.” She smiles softly at him.

Evan shoves his hands in his pockets and mumbles, “Yeah, nice to meet you, Zoe. Thanks.”

“You’re blushing.”

Evan’s head shoots up. “What? I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are,” Zoe says. She chuckles. “It’s cute.”

And with that, she disappears back into her apartment, and Evan waits for his heart to stop racing before he responds to Jared.

* * *

 

**evan:** on my way, sorry. was busy

**jared:** getting laid?

**evan:** shut up

**jared:** i take your silence as confirmation

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Evan have some ice cream and talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is chapter 3! ill get to work on chapter 5 soon so that i can post 4 (because i have this epic fear that if i post a chapter as soon as i finish it then i won't have any motivation left to write the next chapter. so i always write one more chapter than i post. it's like insurance).  
> hope you like it!

“Where have you been?” Jared says in disbelief when he swings the door open to find Evan’s face.

“Out,” Evan says. And then, almost by instinct, “It’s mother’s day. I was with my mom.”

Jared glares as he lets Evan step carefully over the threshold. “Okay, first of all, that would be incredibly lame. But you know what makes it even more lame? The fact that you’re lying. Which I know, because I called your house when you didn’t pick up your goddamn phone, and your mom said you were with me. Which,” he gestures around himself. “What’s with the secrecy, Ev? No, wait. Let me guess. You joined the Mafia.”

“No,” Evan says, biting back a smile.

“You were traveling the world for chocolates from Copenhagen for your dear mother.”

“No.”

“You were hanging out with your secret girlfriend Zoe whose apartment you thought belonged to me.”

“I — she’s not my secret girlfriend!” Evan protests.

“Aha! So you  _ were _ with your secret girlfriend,” Jared whoops. He wiggles his fingers. “Tell me all about it. How far did you go?”

Evan screws up his face. “Ew, Jared!”

Jared fixes Evan with a Look. “Please tell me you at least kissed her. At  _ least. _ ”

“Jared, it’s not like that,” Evan huffs. “We’re friends.  _ Maybe. _ Probably not even that, because I’ll probably never see her again, because it’s not like I’m the kind of person she’d be friends with, okay? We just sat on the ground eating Oreos.”   
Jared rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Evan. What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”

Evan elects not to answer this question. “Did you just want to, I don’t know, hang out? ‘Cause it actually is mother’s day and I do want to try to spend at least some of it with my mom —”

“I can’t decide if your dedication to your mom is endearing or pathetic,” Jared interrupts, wandering with a purpose, apparently, as they enter Jared’s room. “And I’m really starting to regret interrupting your date, but I permit you to talk about it.”

“No thanks,” Evan mumbles. Belatedly, he adds, “And it wasn’t a date.”

“Come on. Eating Oreos on the floor? That’s classy.” Jared smirks. “So, wanna get ice cream?”

He holds up his credit card, and Evan shrugs noncommittally. “Sure.”

* * *

“So now I’m trying to figure out if I should meet this guy even if there’s the totally real possibility that he is either (a) a hooker, (b) a maniac, or (c) some middle school kid, and I’m also trying to decide how much I care if he’s a hooker or a maniac. Obviously I wouldn’t meet up with some eighth grader, but times are hard.” Jared takes a huge lick of his ice cream. Evan tries to relax into the situation and listen to Jared’s dilemma. Of course, he’s been listening to Jared’s dilemmas since freshman year, basically, and Jared rarely takes his advice, but on the off-chance that he does, he’s usually better for it.

If Evan can’t function properly in society, at least he can make sure  _ someone _ does.

“Don’t meet him,” he says, trying for a decisive tone. He can tell he’s not succeeding, but he plows through. “He sounds really sketchy.”

“Or are you just paranoid?” Jared challenges.

Evan thinks. “No...he sounds sketchy.”

Jared frowns for a long moment, then slumps back against his chair. “Damn it. I knew he was a shady bitch. Fine. I won’t meet him. But only if you swear you’ll go back and meet up with that Zoe girl again.”

Evan actually chokes on his drink, spluttering in his açaí refresher. He coughs loudly, drinks another sip from his drink to wash down the choking feeling, and, to Jared’s grinning face, says, “Why do you even care?”

“Look, Evvie baby,” Jared says, patting Evan’s cheek amiably. “I am flattered that you want to spend every waking moment with me, your best friend.  _ Flattered. _ But also, it's pathetic. Super incredibly sad. I want you to be happy, believe it or not. You know how that happens? You make  _ friends _ . Ideally more than one. Capische?”

Oddly, the speech sounds more like a command than advice, so Evan blinks dazedly for a second. “Okay,” he says, confused. “I guess?”

“Great. Step 1: woo her. Which you did with the Oreos. I wouldn't, but then again, this is  _ you  _ we're talking about. Oreos is about as good as it'll get.”

“Wait, what?” Evan interjects, but Jared is on a roll, waving his spoon around like he's a pirate drawing up a map.

“Step 2: talk to her. A lot. That means get her phone number. Aha! Step 2: get her number.” The look Jared gives him is almost chilling in its intensity. “That’s the goal. You have to get her phone number. Can you do that? Are you physically capable of asking for — you know what, this is a waste of time. I know you can't.”

Well, that's not fair. Actually — scratch that. It’s fair — that is, it's true — but still, Evan feels kind of offended. Does Jared have no faith? Not like Evan’s ever proved himself capable of asking for a number, but he's never really had the opportunity. And it doesn't seem too hard — five words, one sentence.

“Hey,” Evan says, the beginning of a protest. “Maybe I could.”

Jared snorts (actually  _ snorts _ ) as he bites into his ice cream. Evan winces as reflex. “Yeah, right. Don't kid yourself, Evan.”

“I could — I could totally get someone's number!” Evan argues.  _ Lies _ , he thinks,  _ liar _ . But everyone has a threshold for how much Jared can shit-talk them before they retaliate, and Evan has finally reached his max. He's just significantly more tolerant than most.

Jared fixes him with an expectant and pretty dismissive look. “Fine. No great loss to me. You want to try and get Zoe’s number? Go the fuck ahead, I won't stop you.”

And in all of the madness, Evan forgets to remind Jared that they're  _ just friends and probably not even that _ .

He's not sure if he wants to think about it.

* * *

The problem is that Evan has no reason to go back Zoe’s apartment now. Well, that's not really right. She had offered a continuation, last time —  _ “We should do it again sometime”  _ — but Evan tends to assume those comments are formalities. They usually are. People usually don't want to do it again sometime.

Zoe’s face, though, when he’d showed up, and the contrasting disappointment when he’d needed to leave, makes Evan doubt himself. 

He hates doubting himself; he likes to be certain in his pessimism because then he will never be disappointed. Optimism only ever ends in letdowns, in things falling short. So Evan tries to err on the side of caution and keep his expectations safely in the dirt.

The point is, he  _ could  _ just take Zoe at her word and show up at her door. But he won't. Which means he needs an excuse. One that will get her to spend time with him, long enough that it won't be awkward when he asks for her number. Five words. Easy.

* * *

“So,” his mom says, serving out the stir fry onto his plate. “How was it hanging out with Jared yesterday? I feel like I never see you anymore to ask.”

“It was good,” Evan says. Not strictly a lie. Actually Evan likes hanging out with Jared usually, or else he wouldn't do it. Just because his personality is challenging to cope with doesn't mean it's not a fun one, on occasion. Rare occasion. “Um, do you know who lives in 604?”

_ Way to be subtle. _

His mom arches an eyebrow. “The Murphys,” she says. “I know them. They came to the apartment barbeque. Two kids? The tall one is your age, I think. Why? Did you talk to him?” And suddenly she seems excited, and Evan has a peculiar urge to cry.

He doesn't, although he does think:  _ nightmare brother Connor is my age? _

“No, I, uh, I went into their apartment by accident,” he confesses. “I thought it was Jared’s. You know it's just one floor up.”

His mom chuckles, and then laughs, heartily. While Evan blushes a color that probably isn't even on the color wheel, she puts a hand over his on the table. “Oh, sweetie, that's funny,” she giggles. “I'm sorry. I won't laugh. It's an honest mistake.”

“But I met the girl who lives there,” he says. “Uh, and also the guy in my grade. Connor.” He's throwing her a bone with this. It feels dishonest, but it's worth it in the moment — his mom smiles, broad and happy.

“Yeah? Are they nice?”

Evan pauses. “Zoe is. Uh, the girl. She's a junior. Connor is kind of...scary.”

Thankfully, his mom nods. “I always got that vibe,” she confides. “But you met Zoe? She seems friendly.”

“She is,” Evan says, careful not to sound too sappy and idiotic. Because she's only been friendly twice, and maybe she's hiding some evil alter ego. How would he know? “So far.”

“Well, if she was friendly even when you broke into their apartment by mistake, I can't imagine it'll get worse than that,” his mom teases.

And then the goddamn doorbell rings.

Evan and his mom make eye contact. They're both thinking the same thing: _ who? _ Because the Hansens never get visitors except Jared and sometimes his mom’s friends, and none of those people ever ring the doorbell.

“I'll get it,” Evan offers, standing and padding to the door. He looks through the peephole. It's only when he sees who's outside that he realizes that was what he'd been hoping.

He opens the door.

“Hi,” Zoe says. Evan almost gets vertigo from the deja vu, except this time he’s inside and she’s out there.

“Hi,” he echoes. “Hi! Come — come in. If you want. Is everything okay? It's — do you want some stir fry?”

Zoe chuckles. “Thanks.” He's not sure what the thanks is for, but she steps inside, and he shuts the door behind her.

“So what, um,” Evan begins, awkward. Zoe looks on the verge of talking when:

“Who was it, honey?”

Evan blanks. “Just a sec, mom!” he calls back. Zoe smiles.

“Your mom,” she says. “I interrupted. You were eating dinner.”

“No, it's — it's no problem, really! We don't get guests a lot but you're welcome to eat, obviously, if you're hungry or anything, don't even worry about it.” He wants to ask her why she's here, but something is keeping that question stuck to his throat.

Zoe shifts on her feet. “If you...I mean, if you're offering.”

Evan  _ beams. _ “Yeah — of course. Come on, and...if my mom grills you, I'm sorry. In advance.”

To the dining room, he calls out, “Mom, we have a guest!”

“A guest?” his mom returns, before Evan enters the dining room, Zoe in tow. To her credit, his mom only looks surprised for a few moments. Then she's in instant Jewish mother mode: “Oh, how nice! You must be Zoe, Evan was just telling me all about you. Do you want to sit? We've got some extra stir fry and I'd love to have another guinea pig for this new recipe, no trouble at all, can I get you anything? Evan, you didn't tell me you had invited her!”

Zoe looks overwhelmed, so Evan takes the wheel. “It was spontaneous, Mom,” he says. “I'll get a plate and stuff, just, hang on, Zoe.”

“This is really —” Zoe begins.

“Shh, honey, it's no problem, we're happy to share! Have you eaten?”

Evan vanishes to the kitchen and returns with a place setting for Zoe, which he sets up next to him. The thought of a meal — proper, domestic, intentional — with Zoe within elbow’s reach the whole time makes Evan’s heart race, and he worries about his palms sweating.

And then he makes eye contact with his mom, and there's a look in her eyes, happy and careful and pleased and affectionate, and Evan's nerves dissipate.

Mostly.

“So Zoe,” his mom says, with a gentle, soothing smile, “Evan told me you're a junior. How is it?”

* * *

“Your mom’s nice,” Zoe says after they’ve cleared the dishes.

“She works hard,” Evan answers, blushing. “I mean yeah, she’s nice. She’s, um,  studying to be a paralegal, so...lots of night classes and that stuff.”

“Neat,” Zoe says, nodding.

“My room’s here,” Evan says, pointing, and Zoe marches in as if it’s her own.

“Cool room,” she says approvingly. “Hey, Bob Ross? I love that guy!”

“I did this,” Evan says, pointing at a painting hung on the wall, “while watching his video. Following along. It was cool.”

Zoe nods. Then she turns to him. “ _ So, Zoe, what are you doing at my apartment with absolutely no advance warning at dinnertime on a random Sunday _ ? Great question. First of all, sorry for barging in. Second, I’m sure you remember the warzone that is my family.” Evan inclines his head in agreement. “Well, let’s just say there was a real...uh...fuck, what are all the big battles? What’s that one with the confederacy?”

“The Civil War?”

“No, the one at the rock.  _ Fuck. _ Gettysburg! There was a real Battle of Gettysburg situation. At my house. And you’re my friend. So I thought I would pay a visit. Escape the casualties.” She does the thing with her face where she scrunches her nose. It’s super adorable. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, still reeling from  _ you’re my friend _ , “no, it’s totally okay. I was — yeah. You can stop by whenever you want. Mi casa tu casa. Uh, you know.” Very smooth. Evan mentally pats himself on the back.

Zoe gives him a huge, unrestrained smile and sits cross-legged on the floor of Evan’s room. “Thanks. By the way, can I have your number? I didn’t get it before. That way I can text you a warning next time I drop in unannounced.”

* * *

**jared:** AHGLJDKLFJSKJFAHAHKJSFKAHHHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA

**jared:** IM GONNA NLOSE MY GODDA MN NMIND EVAN

**jared:** AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

**jared:** well you’re clearly soulmates

**evan:** i was going to ask her!!! she just asked me first!!! how was i supposed to know????

**jared:** i’m sure u were, evanna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for giving this a go! and if you need/want to find me on tumblr, i'm at [@vivilevone](http://vivilevone.tumblr.com) or, less frequently but more DEH-oriented...ly...@do-you-ever-really-crash. thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for giving this a go! and if you need/want to find me on tumblr, i'm at @do-you-ever-really-crash and @vivilevone. thank you!


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